Andy in the Apocalypse [LitRPG System Apocalypse] 3.10 Despite Your Losses

10 – Despite Your Losses

Andy’s Cinderstorm Blast filled the tent with fiery smoke almost imdiately. Cardboard boxes erupted into flas, garbage combusted, and even the Goblin Boss’s ragged furs began to smolder. Andy was immune to his own smoke; the heat of it was an almost pleasant sensation as he inhaled; however, the secondary fires were another matter. Natural smoke mixed with his magical stuff and very real fires billowed up from the stacks of boxes, engulfing the tarp and spreading all around him.

As the Boss scread and bellowed, as his strange, twisted form thrashed, embers fell on Andy, burning his neck and scalp. His eyes watered, and for the first ti, he felt the need to cough as he inhaled so natural smoke. Realizing his tactical error, he concentrated and cast Firewalk. Warm mana spread through him, tingling along his flesh, and as the uncomfortable heat in the smoky inferno beca tolerable again, he glanced at his mana: 297/690.

Firewalk made the situation survivable, but it ate five mana a second. Andy dove toward the twisted Goblin Boss, spear lancing out; he needed to finish things and quickly. Unfortunately, the Boss had a similar outlook; with too-long arms, it lashed out at Andy’s approach. One hooked claw knocked his spear aside, and another raked Andy’s chest. It felt like getting slamd by a piece of lumber; the claw didn’t penetrate his drake-scale coat, but the impact was enough to knock him off balance.

The enormous goblin scuttled toward him, ignoring the way the smoke and fires burned its flesh. As Andy struggled to catch his footing, nearly stumbling into a pile of flaming cereal boxes, the Boss snapped elongated jaws out, snatching hold of Andy’s left arm. The Boss’s teeth pressed into the drake scales; they didn’t penetrate, but ground down onto his bones. Andy scread; it was like having his arm stuck in so kind of industrial crusher.

As the goblin worried his arm, jerking his jowly, burned face left and right, red eyes blazing, Andy tried to bring his spear to bear, but he was under-leveraged. In desperation, he flung himself back into the pile of burning boxes, dragging the Boss with him. The direct application of fire did the trick; with a yowling scream, the huge goblin let go of his arm, bunched his legs and leaped toward the side of the flaming tent, scrabbling and scratching with its claws to break through.

Andy jumped to his feet and gave chase, stabbing his spear into the monster’s long, bony spine. The blade skittered off the bones but found purchase in the dark, smoldering flesh, and Andy did everything he could to maximize damage, twisting and dragging the blade sideways. The Boss had underestimated the toughness of the burning canvas tarp, but in his panic-fueled desperation, the monster leaped and surged, dragging the tent down with him as he exploded off the pavent, rolling down the berm in a flaming ball of canvas.

Thankfully, the tarp-tent had no bottom, and it pulled away from Andy, leaving him standing out in the open. He watched for a few seconds, stunned by the destruction and his sudden exposure to the cool, fresh air. With most of the flas extinguished or smoldering safely away from him, he canceled his Firewalk and looked at his mana: 255/690. Grimacing doggedly, he cast Smoke Drift and leaped after the Goblin Boss, spear held ready as he glided down, lightly touching the gravel as he sped along.

###

The first of the transford hobgoblins leaped at Omar; three-hundred pounds of clawing, gnashing monster slamd into his shield, but the burly fighter held his ground. Growling as his boots slid toward his fire, he whipped his mace around the side to crunch into the creature’s shoulder. At the sa ti, he heaved his shield, sending the monster back into its comrades.

Movent from the corner of his eye prompted Omar to pivot, heaving his shield toward…Madi? He stopped short, hauling his shield around to face the monsters again. “I said run!”

“No!” Her face was red, the creases around her nose streaked with drying blood, but she looked determined. “Bree can’t stand!”

Omar glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, the other woman was sitting with her back to the stone outcropping, one leg extended, a long knife clutched in her hands as she watched the darkness, wide-eyed. Any further argunt was impossible, as a wave of dark goblins attacked. Madi grunted, driving her short spear toward one, and Omar stepped forward to crunch the edge of his steel-banded shield against its skull. He felt the bone give under the blow and grinned, stepping back beside Madi as another hob leaped at him.

From there, things got chaotic; Omar existed in the mont, whipping his mace and shield around, doing his best to help lighten Madi’s burden. In truth, the young woman might have saved his life by stepping up to the fight; her presence split the goblins’ attention, and her shield and spear were ideal for keeping them at bay, forcing them to dance back, trying to flank her.

More than once, when she turned to deal with an attack from the side, another goblin tried to take advantage, charging between her and Omar to attack her blind spot—only for Omar to deal it a fatal blow. The dark goblins and hobs were monstrous and vicious, but they were still mortal; they still died when their skulls were crushed or their hearts were pierced.

After several minutes of combat, with his every muscle aching, and his breaths coming ragged and hoarse, Omar thought the fight was won, that the last of the goblins was dead or routed, then he heard the sickening crunch of jaws snapping through flesh and bone and Madi scread. Omar whirled, certain she’d been attacked from behind, but it wasn’t herself she was screaming for—one of the transford hobs had snuck around them, and it was perched on Bree’s chest, its jaws bloody with her life’s blood.

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An inarticulate outcry rose from Omar’s chest, a roar of horror, disgust…and sha. Raising his mace high, he charged the thing. Sothing in him snapped as his vision went red, and his mace erupted in white flas, throwing light onto the gory battlefield. Madi was beside him as he fell on the monstrous, twisted hob. All he could think of was how that foul creature had been leering as it looked up from Bree’s torn throat. All he could do was crush its every bone.

###

Andy brushed the hot blood from his eyes, dancing back as the monstrous goblin Boss lunged at him again, using two of its arms for balance and two to swipe. It was at least as fast as he was, and their battle had beco a blur of reflexive blocks, dodges, and desperate attacks—on both sides. The Boss was clearly wounded; its twisted flesh was torn and covered with lesions from its disastrous escape from its tent. Andy had stabbed it ten or more tis, and yet it—he?—kept coming.

Andy was getting tired, and he knew his mana was running low, low enough that he dared not cast another spell lest he lose his Fla Vision. Without his ability to see in the dark, he knew he’d quickly be slaughtered by the enormous goblin. So, he fought on, using everything he knew about spear fighting to try to turn the fight to his advantage.

He shifted his grip further back on his spear, using its length to give him more ti to react to the goblinoid monster’s erratic attacks. Leveraging the terrain, he drew the Boss back toward the road so he could stand on the berm and use the elevated position to further increase his reach advantage. From there, he leaped side to side, refusing to give the scuttling monster a chance to clamber up beside him.

Whenever it made a rush, he’d drive his spear into one of its shoulders or toward its face, several tis scoring deep stabs. anwhile, the enchantnt on his spear and, perhaps, Madi’s poison, slowly took their toll. The Goblin Boss grew slower and slower, and its roars turned into croaks as it gasped and coughed, trying to advance on Andy. Whatever magic it was adept at, the thing seed to have lost its ability to work spells after it transford into the twisted version of itself.

Bit by bit, Andy wore it down, and when the monster stumbled, falling face down, he capitalized, using his Critical Mastery to guide his spear-tip through the at of its upper back into its thudding goblin heart. If the blow wasn’t imdiately fatal, Andy’s Balefire took hold and ensured there would be no recovery. The enormous goblinoid fell on its face, its six limbs twitching as it wheezed out a few final, ragged breaths.

Andy leaned on his spear haft, holding the thing in place as it died. While he waited, he looked left and right, ensuring no further attackers were gathering the courage to co at him. The road was quiet, though; the fires were all but out, and the dark clouds were clearing. He could see stars winking above—not many, but more and more, as the unnatural storm drifted away. He wondered if Omar and the others were okay.

***Congratulations, Andy! You and your companions have cleared the goblin war camp, defeating many Elite enemies and a Boss. You’ve earned enough experience to advance your Brimstone Stalker class two levels, bringing it to 29, and earning an additional Improvent Point. Stand proud—you and your companions achieved a great victory, despite your losses. In recognition of your achievent, you’ll receive a random System-generated treasure the next ti you rest in a safe area.***

***Congratulations! You’ve made progress on your quest: The Mind Behind the Horde. You’ve scattered the goblin horde and slain the Goblin Boss. Be sure to collect the docunt the Emissary gave to the Boss, and then continue in your pursuit.***

Andy hardly read the ssages. His eyes couldn’t stop focusing on one line: …despite your losses. The words echoed through his mind, and he yanked his spear out of the dead Boss and sprinted down the road toward the ravine where he’d left the others. When he burst through the underbrush onto the open stretch between the road and the outcropping where Bree had been perched, he saw the results of the battle.

In the mud left behind by the sudden downpour, dozens of goblinoid corpses were sprawled—so slain by him, but just as many killed by Omar and the others. Moreover, so of the corpses, those closest to his companions’ position, were twisted and dark, clearly transford by the Boss’s dark ritual.

He saw Omar leaning against the stone outcropping, his shield on the ground, his hands on his knees as he rested, head down. He looked exhausted and battered, covered with mud and blood. Madi was there, too, though she was on her knees, face in hands beside the fourth mber of their party—Bree. The Huntress was stretched out on the damp ground between them, and Andy might have thought she was resting or recovering from a wound, except that her upper torso and face were covered by her jacket.

Andy’s steps slowed, and he approached the trio with dread. The others heard him as he drew near, and Omar looked up at him, his eyes glinting like a cat’s from the depths of his blood- and mud-covered face. He shook his head. Madi jumped up and ran to him. She smashed against him, squeezing his ribs.

“I thought you died, too,” she said.

With his free arm, Andy pulled her close, noting the many rends in her armor and the blood and gore that caked every inch of her, even her helt, as though she’d taken a face-plant or two into the mud. “Dammit,” was all he said, finally allowing his eyes to settle on Bree’s body and register it for what it was.

As Madi pulled away, her tears invisible in the gloom as they mixed with the blood on her face, Andy put a hand on her shoulder and walked with her over to Omar. “I should have stayed longer.”

Omar shook his head. “I take it you killed the Boss? Probably kind of important.”

Andy scowled, looking down at Bree’s corpse. He didn’t have to ask why they’d put her coat over her head. He could imagine. “Cheechee?”

“We think he died first. She scread his na before she fell,” Madi said, sniffing.

Andy looked back to the road. “I’ll find him. We should bury them together.”

Omar shook his head. “You find the owl. I’ll build a pyre.”

“I’ll help—” Madi started to say, but Omar shook his head.

“Go with Andy. I have a ritual to complete.” He looked at Andy, staring until Andy locked eyes with him. “Sothing happened during the fight. My class is morphing, but I have a quest to complete.” He nodded toward Bree’s body. “This is part of it.”

Andy didn’t hesitate to agree; he trusted Omar. “We’ll find the owl. I have to search the Boss, too.” He squeezed Madi’s shoulder, then gestured to her spear and shield, leaning on the outcropping near Bree. “Get your weapons.” She hurried to collect them, and Andy looked at Bree’s body again. He felt responsible, but he knew that was selfish; Omar and Madi were feeling it just as much as he was. They’d all lost a friend, and nobody was really to bla other than the damn goblins that had killed her.